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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598095">burned words</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotalizard/pseuds/iamnotalizard'>iamnotalizard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>bakoda fleet week [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, BakodaFleetWeek, M/M, Pining, The Abbey, Unrequited Love, attempted love connfession, i guess?, mention of canon injury, no beta head empty, perhaps, promot: interrupted</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:02:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotalizard/pseuds/iamnotalizard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>all that Bato can think is <i>I love you I love you I love you I love you</i>. The words burn his tongue worse than any of the strange spices they’ve encountered since they’ve left the South Pole. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bato/Hakoda (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>bakoda fleet week [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bakoda Fleet Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>burned words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>will i ever come up with a good title? only time will tell</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Bato doesn’t try to tell Hakoda that he loves him anymore, not that it really matters, in the grand scheme of things. When he was younger, he had tried - tried to get the words to form properly on his lips, but something always got in the way. Whether it was the sudden realization that the words would affect Kya - and eventually Sokka and Katara - or the sudden feeling of cowardice after he tried so hard to get Hakoda alone, or because he thought better in the face of his dearest friend, forever mourning the loss of his wife and with the whole world on his shoulders. The war won’t stop for love, or grief, or for the chance of the big </span>
  <em>
    <span>what if </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s been haunting him for nearly all his life. Bato knows this all too well; Hakoda knows this too. It used to be something that Bato thought weighted him down, something that made him dead weight, but instead, it’s only made him that much more loyal, that much more trusted, that much more important to Hakoda, even if he doesn’t know the true reasons behind his devotion. The feeling still sits heavy in his chest, pressing against his ribs so hard sometimes Bato swears they’ll snap. They never do. Bato takes his vow of silence on the matter seriously; Hakoda has his children, their tribe, and the war to worry about. He doesn’t need to worry about his lifelong friend’s pining feelings too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, sometimes Bato will look at Hakoda and the light will be hitting him just right, or the spray of the sea will gather in droplets just above his brow, or sometimes he’ll just be hunched over a scroll, hand propping his head up, eyes stern and focused, and the words will just claw their way out of his chest, like crabs escaping a net, fighting each other to get out first. At least, they try to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes part of the confession will slip out, a raspy, “Hakoda, I-” will bubble out of his lips before he can beat it back down. Either Hakoda will be too busy or surrounded by too much noise to hear, or he’ll look up from his task, face tense with stress but eyes softening as he looks towards his friend, and Bato will have to come up with an excuse as to why he drew his attention away. Often it’s as easy as clearing his throat of the lovesick tone and saying, “Hakoda, I think you need a break.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hakoda rarely listens to Bato’s pleas for him to take greater care of himself, saying that the other tribe members or the war effort need him. Bato has to work so hard to not say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need you too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Other times it’s the good grace of the spirits that keep Bato’s confessions away from Hakoda’s ears. A quiet moment sitting around the evening fire, sparks illuminating Hakoda’s face in a warm glow, hair falling out of its wolf tail and hanging around his face, and all that Bato can think is </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you I love you I love you I love you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The words burn his tongue worse than any of the strange spices they’ve encountered since they’ve left the South Pole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Voice so soft that only the spirits can hear, Bato will start to say, “I lo-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chief!” Someone will always call, and Hakoda will always turn to look towards them, always willing to help. It happens more times than Bato would care to admit, that he’s saved from his own inability to keep his feelings to himself, only because one of their tribe members need help settling a minor dispute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feeling of relief that he feels when he’s saved of a confession is secondary to the feeling of regret. His love for Hakoda paces around in his heart, like a caged sabre-tooth moose-lion, antsy and yearning for escape. More than anything Bato wants Hakoda to know how he feels, to know that despite all his flaws, all his mistakes, all of his perceived failures, he wants him to know that Bato still loves him despite, or maybe because, all that. He wants to kiss his stress bitten lips and to smooth his slowly greying hair. He wants to hold his friend close at night, to speak with him about his children, to return to their home and move in together and die old and grey next to his side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More than anything, Bato wants Hakoda to know that he won’t leave him and that he won’t let Hakoda leave him either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But those are promises that can’t, and shouldn’t, be made. Bato knows, rationally, that he might not be able to keep them, and his devotion to Hakoda means that he’s never been able to lie outright to him. So instead he dances around the subject, he tries to get Hakoda to rest when he’s been working too much, tries to make sure he always gets a slightly bigger serving of food (even though when Hakoda notices, he’ll switch bowls with whoever is the most injured), tries to tell him without telling him that he is loved, and cared for and that without him, Bato fears that he’ll never be complete. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s when his arm is burned, when his skin red and melted, tissue exposed and damp, when every beat of his heart shutters and every breath is pained and hard, and his eyes keep shutting for minutes at a time before shooting back open with pained groans, that he feels drops of water falling on his face. For a moment Bato thinks it might be raining, and wouldn’t that be a nice relief on his scorched skin, except he feels a quaking all around him, and he realizes that it’s not rain or an earthquake, but Hakoda. And he realizes that Hakoda is carrying him, his strong arms around his waist and holding his leg, his undamaged arm has been positioned around Hakoda’s shoulders, and Hakoda is carrying him with such strength and tenderness that Bato doesn’t know how to react. And then he feels - doesn’t hear, the blood pumping in his ears makes it almost impossible to hear anything - Hakoda sob, soul racking and aggressive, as he continues his trek… wherever they’re headed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his semi-conscious state, Bato mumbles, “Hakoda…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the name earns is another cry, as the man looks down at Bato’s ash-smudged and bloodied face. He says something, but Bato is already drifting off, only aware of the shaking of Hakoda’s chest and the pain of his left side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only thing he can think is </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he doesn’t know if his mouth moves as quickly as his thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they get to the abbey, Bato is only awake for moments at a time, only aware of the Sisters pouring frigid water over his wounds, the sensation of thick salves, and then suffocating bandages wrapped tightly around his arm and torso. He can vaguely hear Hakoda speaking to one of the Sisters, but it’s fuzzy. Everything is fuzzy, from his hearing to his eyesight, to the feeling of everything around him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bato opens his eyes, unaware that he closed them in the first place, to see smudges of blue walking away, and the sight of Hakoda holding his unbandaged hand, eye closed and forehead pressed against Bato’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bato tries to greet him, but all that comes out in a garbled whine. Hakoda opens his eyes slowly, lifts his head and looks down at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Bato.” His voice is choked and comes out heavy, over-enunciated. “The Sisters said you might not remember a whole bunch, but I wanted to tell you that… we have to leave. The tribe and I. We need to keep heading to the safe point, and we…. We have to leave you here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another whine escaped from Bato’s throat, and he tries to push himself up, but before Hakoda can push him down, he collapses back onto the medical cot. Instead, he holds Hakoda’s hand even tighter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Bato, spirits, I’m so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Tears flow down Hakoda’s face. “We can’t take care of you, and the Sisters here already said that you’ll probably get an infection and if we can’t take care of you, you’ll die, and you can’t die on me, Bato.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bato slowly, carefully, pulls Hakoda back down so that their foreheads are pressed together again. He feels the heat of Hakoda’s laboured breaths against his face. He closes his eyes, focusing on the pleasant warmth instead of the painful burn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll send for you as soon as we’re safe so that you can follow, I swear it.” Hakoda cries, not quite freely, but as freely as he can. The warm tears stream down his face, onto Bato’s lips and into his tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Bato believes that; he believes and trusts in Hakoda more than anything, more than he believes in himself or that this gods forsaken war will ever end. But he doesn’t trust his own erratically beating heart, or the pain in his arm, or the light-headedness that he feels.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hakoda,” he chokes out, throat scratchy and dry. He wants to be speaking confidently, loudly, with his usual voice of order and straightforwardness, but instead, his voice is quiet, raspy, and broken. “Hakoda, I love-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chief Hakoda,” A voice calls out from the doorway. Bato can’t recognize it right now, but it booms and echos in his ears. “We need to leave. If we stay any longer, we may get caught by the next patrol.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Hakoda nods, and says, “Alright. Get everyone ready to leave. I’ll be out in a minute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a shuffling and Bato assumes that whoever was speaking has left, and he’s left just staring into Hakoda’s eyes, blue like the ice caves that polar dogs dig, and suddenly Bato, for the first time, wonders if all his love could maybe be returned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hakoda squeezes Bato’s hand, pressing Bato’s knuckles into his scratchy cheek, and holds it there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bato closes his eyes, wanting nothing more than to hold Hakoda’s hand forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll send for you,” Hakoda whispers, one more time. “I’m not leaving you here forever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Bato wants to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know, I know, I know you’d never leave me, not in a hundred years, not for all the stars in the sky, not for all the warmth in the South Pole</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but all that comes out in a sob that he didn’t realize was building in his throat. Hakoda wipes away the tears with his thumb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bato, I-” And another cry blooms out of Bato’s mouth. Hakoda shushes him. “Bato, Bato, none of that now. You’ll be back with me soon, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bato nods, eyes still streaming, as Hakoda finally releases his hand. He runs a hand over Bato’s knotted hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be back together soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And as Bato watches his retreating figure, he wants to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know, I love you, I know, I love you, I know. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But all he can do is let out a sigh, as his emotional outburst ends, leaving him exhausted. His eyes close as he hears Hakoda giving orders outside the curtain of his door, and the only words in his mind are </span>
  <em>
    <span>love you love you love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>today, i give you nothing. tomorrow? who knows</p></blockquote></div></div>
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